


Counterfeit

by Fluffifullness



Series: Trope Bingo Round One - Multifandom [8]
Category: Tiger & Bunny
Genre: Alternate Universe - Porn, Community: trope_bingo, M/M, Pornstars, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-04-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 01:01:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluffifullness/pseuds/Fluffifullness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Given that he knows so much, the real surprise shouldn’t lie in his reassignment to a new agent. He should be less bewildered by the cool young blonde – frowning and adjusting his glasses as if simply meeting his new partner is the greatest inconvenience he’s ever had to endure – and more surprised that he didn’t see this coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work in this fandom, my second AU for any fandom, and my eighth trope_bingo fic. The prompt was "au: hooker/porn/stripper." 
> 
> The first chapter here is more of a prologue. Plot happens with further updates, I think. ;)

Kaburagi T. Kotetsu knows that his line of work has been reaching a considerably wider audience lately – at least in light of the fact that it isn’t particularly accepted by society at large. He also knows that the companies taking advantage of this are not afraid to shamelessly exploit whatever they can if it means more money in the bank. He knows that it’s not a career to which many aspire, and he knows that, at his age, he should be grateful if he can even keep his job.

Given that he knows so much, the real surprise shouldn’t lie in his reassignment to a new agent. He should be less bewildered by the cool young blonde – frowning and adjusting his glasses as if simply meeting his new partner is the greatest inconvenience he’s ever had to endure – and more surprised that he didn’t see this coming.

Still, come on - “Hah? Could you repeat that one more time?” - this has gotta be some kind of mistake. Kotetsu’s not even particularly popular, himself, so why have him act as the mentor of some promising young rookie?

“Your contract was considerably less expensive,” explains the gray-haired executive – Lloyds, if memory serves - chin resting on his hands, shoulders on his desk, and eyes betraying no sympathy. “You won’t have to do much, so try to relax. Barnaby here will be the selling point, but we can’t have him working alone – can we?” The last two words are obviously intended as a challenge, and Kotetsu’s hand goes to the back of his neck as he exhales impatiently.

“Yeah, but – I mean, is that even legal? Kid looks really young.”

Said kid’s frown deepens, and his lips part as he prepares to protest this statement. Lloyds cuts in before his ‘selling point’ can, though – “He’s twenty-three. Any other objections? If you don’t like it, you can always quit.”

Kotetsu can’t deny that, of course, but it’s not a particularly appealing option. After all, he’s not well-known for his dramatic skill, and he sorely lacks other talents. Yep, he’s pretty much nameless – already in his late thirties, and with not much going for him beyond his remaining sex appeal. He looks younger than his years, sure, and some people do prefer their porn actors middle-aged. But what the hell would he do with himself, jobless, skilless, and this far advanced in years?

‘Course, he’ll look a lot older with this guy next to him in bed.

And just where does this pompous-ass kid get off announcing himself to the world – his whole name (Kotetsu doesn’t go far to hide his own, of course, but he does prefer his stage name), and not a hint of shyness whatsoever? It’s not like he’s starting work as a serious actor, after all. And how about the way he acted before, as he was being officially introduced to the others – all smiles and pretentiousness?

“What’s wrong with using my full name, as long as I’m working to make an honest living?”

“Crap – did – did I say something aloud just now?” Kotetsu forces an innocent smile, one hand raised uselessly in the air in a weak attempt at banishing the suddenly-tense atmosphere between himself and Barnaby – and tries to pretend that he hasn’t noticed the other man’s glare.

“You did. Old man, are you really serious about this? If you’re not, I’d prefer that you just quit now; I don’t have time to waste on incompetents.”

It’s Kotetsu’s turn to be pissed, and he whirls all the way around on the plush carpet to face his junior head-on. His arm is now raised in a gesture of defiance, but the effect is hardly menacing. “Yeah?! Well, I don’t have time for little kids!”

“Haven’t we already been over this? I’m not a kid.” The blonde doesn’t raise his voice even slightly, and he chooses that moment to adjust his glasses – as if he’s just that cool, the punk. The light reflecting off of them briefly obscures his eyes, and he continues in a tone that verges on mockery. “Or are you simply out of reasons to refuse?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old enough – he thinks – to know the difference between physical acknowledgment and something deeper.

Kotetsu used to believe in justice – heroism, warmth, or at least providing his audience with a decent diversion from the stresses of everyday life. He used to like comic-book stories about people who had all those qualities – power, too, and therefore the ability to help people in need.

He doesn’t, now, though – hasn’t, really, since Tomoe died, since his popularity quickly started to decline. Since his daughter – still unaware of what her estranged father does for a living – started giving him the cold shoulder. Since he started feeling like he was failing both his child and his late wife.

Since things that should have been right started going wrong.

Of course, it shouldn’t be too externally obvious. Kotetsu’s still just as – if not more – goofy than ever – under normal circumstances, of course. But his heart is never completely in it, not even when he throws all of his effort into acting, into random acts of kindness and calls back home. There’s always that emptiness he can’t quite fill. A gnawing worry that can’t be put to rest.

He figures that the fans he’s sure he had once have probably long since noticed that emptiness – that anxiety that pertains to Kotetsu knows not what – despite all of his best attempts at covering it up. His daughter, too, and – hell – maybe even that blonde-haired, bespectacled kid who seems to dislike him so.

Agh – it’s a headache and a half, honestly, and whoever said that the best things in life aren’t free clearly enjoyed a _care_ free existence.

Carefree is better, though, so – “Enough thinking,” Kotetsu sighs to himself, eyes slipping shut as he sets a half-emptied bottle of beer down on the nearest flat surface. He settles further into his couch, then, rests his stockinged feet on the coffee table in front of him and dips his head back so that his hair dangles, dark and damp, over the back of the furniture.

He’s just finished a long, hot shower and is doing his best to relax before retiring for the night. Tomorrow will be his and Barnaby’s first day on the job, after all, and Kotetsu expects it to be a long one. He doesn’t relish the thought of touching – or being touched by – someone so much younger than himself. It doesn’t sit well with him, and besides – he can’t even imagine getting along well with that jerk.

Earlier today, he was reluctantly persuaded by his boss to watch his new partner’s debut film. To hell with being the kid’s mentor – the guy has a great body, all toned muscle and smooth finesse. He puts on a convincing performance, to be sure, and his facial expressions are nothing to scoff at.

Actually, Kotetsu isn’t even sure that the guy _was_ acting. Not many people in this industry have particularly great dramatic skills, sure, but – well, he could swear that that Lloyds guy had said something about it being non-penetrative…

Kotetsu scrambles suddenly to his feet, glances around at his spacious – empty, lonely – apartment, and quickly swallows the remainder of his drink. May as well turn in now, if his mind’s gonna insist on driving his thoughts down this path.

He doesn’t wanna think about it, dammit.

~

“You’re late.”

Kotetsu, doubled over with one hand resting heavily on his knee and the other holding his favorite hat in place, has to take a long moment to catch his breath before he is able to respond to Barnaby’s blunt criticism.

“My alarm didn’t go off,” he manages at last – a lie, actually, but he’s not about to admit that he simply couldn’t resist hitting the snooze button a good number of times before dragging himself out of bed.

He notices the skeptical raise of Agnes’s eyebrow behind Barnaby and knows that his own expression reflects his guilt. “…Okay, so maybe it did.” The producer (he met her yesterday, too, and she’s already made clear how little she thinks of him) only scoffs at this admission, though, and the matter is dropped there.

“Just try not to mess up too badly,” Barnaby mutters as the two go for a quick change of clothes – replacing leather jackets and casual suits with bathrobe-like numbers that conceal short boxers and plenty of bare skin. Kotetsu notices, out of the corner of his eye, that the left breast of his partner’s robe is adorned with a small rabbit.

 _Suits a kid_ , he thinks with a momentary grin, and he’s reminded of the video from yesterday – Barnaby, panting and bright-eyed, sweat glistening on his brow and a pair of floppy ears sprouting from his mess of blonde hair. Yes, it suits him well.

 _Very_ well.

Pretending very insistently that he did not just feel a little shiver run up his spine, the older man parrots the blonde’s comment back at him as they return to the set. In what he deems to be an exceptionally clever move, he also mutters “Little Bunny,” and the response is immediate.

“What did you just call me?!” The younger man turns on his senior, eyebrows angled downward in a frown so pronounced that Kotetsu might even dare to call it a pout. “My name is Barnaby. Surely you’re at least mature enough to remember that much?”

“Bunny suits you fine,” Kotetsu insists, his arms crossed defiantly on his chest. “And I don’t wanna hear that from a twenty-something kid!” _He_ doesn’t appreciate the irony of his statement, the way it clashes so much with his own, more childlike tone and mannerisms, but Barnaby does – and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, to show it.

“Would you two try to stop goofing off and get on with it? We _will_ shoot this scene as many times as it takes to get it right.” Agnes’s second ‘get-serious’ glare is acidic enough to quiet even the boisterous Kotetsu. They get on with it promptly – or, rather, off with it, and a couple of stage assistants take the discarded robes.

“Kaburagi-san, you’re on the bed,” a cameraman calls, and the bearded man blinks incredulously.

“Shouldn’t Bunny be the one who – ”

“There’s no mistake,” Agnes snaps, another warning surfacing in her potent gaze. She turns it on Barnaby, then, and Kotetsu is positive that her cold attitude softens just slightly in the instant before she addresses him directly. “Barnaby. The idea is to convey a more forceful character than you have in the past, but you should be fine if you just go with whatever’s more comfortable.”

God, does Kotetsu hate preferential treatment – especially when it favors a guy with a personality like Bunny’s. He figures that another attempt at garnering attention couldn’t fail too terribly, so he speaks up again. “Hey, what should I do?” He says it cheerfully, this time, and loudly.

“Just act like you normally would,” Barnaby directs the older man, mouth quirking up at one corner. “You _are_ the expert, right?”

Expert. The application of that term to _this_ bothers Kotetsu. He doesn’t exactly hate his work, but it’s not as if he considers it to be some greatly elevated art form, either. Hell, he’s never really been sure how he wound up doing this in the first place. It isn’t as if he’s simply failed at attaining any ‘real’ roles – he’s never tried. He was a teen once, too, and at that time he’d enjoyed a handful of pornos involving the same actor – Petrov, his name had been – but he can’t really claim to have been inspired by _that_ –

“Are you going to lie there all day, old man, or are we going to get this over with?”

“Ah – are the cameras rolling yet?”

The blonde man sighs and shakes his head. Kotetsu hadn’t even noticed him climbing onto the bed beside him, but now he’s very much aware of the almost-tangible pressure that results from having Barnaby hovering above him.

“This scene is intended to tease the audience a bit,” Agnes calls, red lipstick coloring every word with authority, “so you won’t be going all the way. Just make it look as real as you can – and Kaburagi, make sure that you _stick to your role_.”

“F-fine,” the older man mutters reluctantly. Preferential treatment is right, and – what the hell – not going all the way? Kotetsu’s been wondering, of course, because it isn’t every day that he wears anything at all under the robe. Still, he’s been assuming that part of the scene would involve shedding that – and what the hell is the point of ‘teasing the audience’ in what’s supposed to be hardcore pornography?

Barnaby notices the other’s confusion and frowns down at him. “You didn’t know about this?”

“Nobody tells me anything,” Kotetsu complains back, eyebrows raised as if to ask – rhetorically, of course – whether the younger man can sympathize with his poor, abused senior.

No such luck, but he does surprise Kotetsu by explaining briefly – “The reason I was asked to work with you in the first place was to target a larger female audience. We’re supposed to be aiming for an emotional approach in addition to the usual one. Scenes like this are supposed to contribute to that – well, not that I care, as long as it works out in the end.”

In other words, this project is going to last much, much longer than Kotetsu had been expecting it to. Great. Fantastic.

They’re supposed to improvise this, too, and hey – memorizing lines is a pain, to be sure, but Kotetsu might’ve preferred that to –

“Relax. It only hurts at first.”

“Eh?” Oh, god – Bunny’s really not a bad actor after all, even if his lines are a little overdone. He’s in character, at least, and suddenly those eyes don’t betray even a hint of his usual coldness. They’re wide and innocent and there’s even a touch of fond laughter in them.

They’re green – had Kotetsu noticed that before? “Ah… okay… Sounds good…”

Not to Agnes, it doesn’t, and her voice again shatters the relative silence of the film set. “Cut, cut, cut! Mr. Kaburagi, what exactly are you doing? Surely your acting is just a little better than that!” One arm raised to stereotypically wave a bundle of papers about – what, a script? Kotetsu wouldn’t mind a copy of that right about now.

He sighs. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”

“Shall we start again?” Barnaby asks, the very picture of courtesy. Of course, he’s not talking to Kotetsu.

Agnes sighs, and the drama of that small gesture easily outdoes Kotetsu’s old-man-ish petulance. “Starting again in three,” she calls, her tone long-suffering and unreasonably exhausted.

“Quite the character, huh?” Kotetsu jokes in spite of himself. This whole situation is just ridiculous, after all, and he’s not the type to effectively bear a grudge for very long – not even this long, in fact, but don’t misunderstand. He’s still annoyed, goddammit.

Barnaby smirks. “You’re quite the character, yourself.”

He’s what?

A call from one of the cameramen signals that filming has started, and Kotetsu has no time to ponder Barnaby’s statement properly because the blonde chooses that moment to press a kiss to his lips. “I want you so much right now,” he whispers, and Kotetsu hates him just a little for practically begging laughter out of the older man. Guy must be making a concerted effort to embarrass Kotetsu, jeez.

Never mind that his lips are warm and soft – tasteless, too, but it’s not such a deep kiss. The sensation makes up for what the chastity lacks – a buzzing, thrumming pulse that spreads, and – what is it? – maybe this is what any young actor is bound to feel like, or maybe Bunny is special. Kotetsu vaguely wonders what he might taste like, should they deepen the kiss – a warm taste to match the feeling, Kotetsu decides. Cinnamon, because that has a bit of a bite to it, as well. It fits.

Hang on. He didn’t just… no. Forget those thoughts. _Purge_ them.

He drags his mind – well, back to the gutter, and… still, this kind of melodrama suits him just fine when you get right down to it. He’ll show Bunny one way or another, dammit, so he parts his lips and turns his head just slightly to the side so that his neck is that much more accessible. “I feel the same,” he breathes, and Barnaby’s reaction is exactly right – a single swipe of his tongue to trace the curve of one outstanding muscle.

“I’m so glad,” the blonde whispers back.

Yes, it’s overdone, but it’s also smooth enough. Kotetsu’s getting into the flow of it, and it’s all he can do not to – well – because normally he’d make some clumsy attempt at taking control, y’know, and this is as awkward as it is surprisingly easy.

He’s just a kid –

Right?

But Barnaby’s touching does not stop there – thumb and forefinger fiddling with Kotetsu’s nipples, which harden and send little unwilling shivers running all the way down his spine – he likes using his tongue and he is _very_ good with his hands. Kotetsu knows, of course, that the blonde’s not putting his all into every touch, but he can’t quite describe his own reactions as _acting_ because he is very honestly enjoying himself.

Physically. Just physically.

Because the guy’s young, and Kotetsu’s not interested in anyone but Tomoe. He still loves her – tragically clichéd as that is – and he has Kaede. He’s older than this blunt, cold, obnoxiously mature kid.

Old enough – he thinks – to know the difference between physical acknowledgment and something deeper.

And, really – who would be stupid enough to consider things like this – sheets rougher than they look, cute young guy pretending to say what he does out of love or lust, mouth-watering touch – as anything more than work? Not an AV actor – that’s for sure – and definitely not a middle-aged man with an adorable daughter back home.

Still, the scene is good. Damn good.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naturally, that’s where things get really bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter probably would have been an opportune time to mention that I don't know enough about the adult video industry to be 100% spot-on. I hope that this will continue to be a decent representation nonetheless (and thanks for all the kudos!).

The scene _must_ be damn good, if it can get Kotetsu out of what would have been an entire afternoon of pretending not to like what he’s acting like he likes and liking all of it despite his most concerted efforts not to. The confusion alone is bad enough, and he wastes no time in rushing back to the dressing room – partly because he’s just completely exhausted and fed-up with all of it, and partly because he has a little something to take care of behind closed doors.

Agnes – that domineering goddess of it-could-be-better – takes the liberty of giving her least favorite actor a warning in the midst of his haste to get going. ‘Next time,’ she calls after him, ‘you’d better be prepared to really put your back into it.’

Kotetsu is left to contemplate the possible degree to which he should take those words literally.

He’s also left to finish his quick jerk-off and a bowl of lukewarm instant ramen in total isolation. He can hear laughter and congratulations emanating from several other rooms, but none of that is meant for him and he’s a little too overwhelmed to really care. Let Barnaby enjoy the spotlight – he’s earned it, as reluctant as Kotetsu is to admit that.

It would have been a pretty okay day – better than he’d expected, anyway – had Barnaby not somehow managed to leave the building at exactly the same time as Kotetsu.

They meet in the parking lot, and neither says anything in the space of the less than two minutes that it takes Barnaby to find his motorcycle – an unsurprising bright-red number.

Seeing him again like that would have been only slightly less okay, of course, but Kotetsu’s good at making things harder on himself. He despises tense partings and awkward silences just a touch more than he does this petulant young man, so he decides – after precious little thought, of course – to lighten the mood before continuing on his way.

 “Think I’m ‘mature’ enough now?” he calls, jacket slung over his shoulder and head cocked to one side in what he sincerely hopes resembles a cool pose. “I bet you were expecting me to mess up again, right?”

Barnaby stops, then, and Kotetsu could swear that he actually feels irritation leaking off of the younger man in waves. Heck, he could cut it with the chopsticks he used to eat that ramen earlier.

“No,” the blonde snaps, and damned if he’s not blushing a little as he turns to face his partner. “I expected Ms. Joubert to have us redo the scene a third time – _after_ the second attempt. I’m surprised she didn’t.” His glare more than makes up for the little flush of color in his cheeks, and the balance settles at still-as-bad-natured-as-ever.

“Ah, come on – admit that I was pretty cool there for a while! Don’t even try to tell me that’s not why you’re looking all flustered, now!”

The blonde’s eyes narrow. “Do you seriously intend to harass me like this?”

Kotetsu halts, too, and he wilts a little as his thoughts catch on the implications of Bunny’s words.

“…Eh?”

Barnaby sighs, closing his eyes briefly before he shifts his gaze back up to capture Kotetsu’s. “Please don’t go confusing your work with your private life, old man. What happens on camera stays on camera.”

“In – in other words…?”

Another sigh – Kotetsu’s really getting tired of hearing those, today – and the blonde’s next words are charged with just a little more venom. “Don’t talk to me like you know me.”

Right. Kotetsu had almost forgotten just how terribly un-cute this man truly is.

~

“Seriously, talk about an overreaction!” Kotetsu mutters again – hours later, and this time the beer that quenches his thirst is served to him by an expressionless bartender and not by a largely-vacant refrigerator. Kotetsu’s a regular here, actually, so he should probably know the bartender’s name; even more so, perhaps, given that this is the only place aside from his own apartment that he ever chooses to go for fun anymore.

If drinking alone qualifies as fun, that is, and can he really be blamed for not remembering the name of a guy who almost never speaks to him?

Kotetsu is good at pretending that he’s okay with lacking companionship, though. He satisfies himself with silent rants about how it makes no damned sense to interpret friendly conversation as a sexual come-on; how he has no real interest in that bastard, because he may be young and dexterous but his personality is about as desirable as a dead tarantula; and how he should probably quit, but he can’t, and dammit, he’s just got this gut feeling that tomorrow is going to be so much worse.

~

Should he be amused by the fact that it is?

Because the _several_ scenes – all plot-based and heavily reliant upon decent acting – are redone so many times that Kotetsu can hardly even remember his own character’s name by the end of it. As if that’s not enough, he’s also informed at the very last minute that he has to attend a meeting with Lloyds and the always-amiable Barnaby.

Naturally, that’s where things get really bad.

“You want me to do what – with him?!”

“Yes. We plan on making this film a big hit, after all, and the publicity will make up for what the content lacks.”

“If that’s what we have to do, then I suppose there’s no helping it,” Barnaby sighs, then. His arms are crossed demurely on his chest, and he looks just as calm as if no one’s just infringed upon his basic constitutional rights.

This _is_ that kind of infringement – right?

But, Kotetsu decides suddenly, he doesn’t necessarily have to argue anything that extreme to convince Lloyds and whomever else that this just won’t work – “Come on,” he whines, palms turned up in a pleading gesture, “I can’t even make normal conversation with him, let alone anything like that! I’m telling you, it’s hopeless!”

_Ah, man, that wasn’t very convincing at all…_

“And I’m telling you,” their manager responds patiently, “that you can either quit or make this work.”

Why do these arguments always feel so one-sided?

Kotetsu starts to say something else – he doesn’t even know what, really, but there must be _something_. Maybe he _should_ have seen this partnership and this new company and everything else coming, but he definitely can’t accept anything as ridiculously, completely, intolerably impossible as – as –

“We’ve already made a reservation for the two of you at a local five-star restaurant. There may be some photographers around, but please pay no attention to them and have a good time together.”

They can’t seriously expect to market him and Barnaby as a _real couple_ – right?!

Right…?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s _weird_ that Kotetsu feels like he’s seen something he shouldn’t – like he’s getting just a little too close to learning more about this mostly-a-stranger with whom he’s been forced to work.

It’s a simple, cruel fact of life – Kaburagi T. Kotetsu loves amusement parks even more than his 10-year-old daughter does. He likes to fool himself into thinking that other people feel the same way – the towering coasters, the swollen bouquets of red-blue-yellow-and-pink balloons, the piquant combination of hot-and-salted popcorn and sick-sweet cotton candy that permeates the air – how could anyone _not_ love it?

He’s mildly puzzled, then, by Barnaby’s exceptionally terrible mood. His perpetual frown is more pronounced than usual, today, and his constant sighing is audible even over the screams that emanate from any number of nearby attractions. The guy looks like he’s positively wilting under the heat of the sun – which, by all rights, should be entirely tolerable – and Kotetsu feels his earlier dismay returning full force with every foot further that he and the blonde travel together.

“At least try to look like you wouldn’t rather be sitting in the middle of a roaring fire,” he finally snaps, because really – if he can put up with this ridiculous, extra-long, so-called date, Barnaby had damn well better be able to do the same. And to think that he’d just been starting to let go of his grudge over having to spend not only dinner – no, not just a couple of hours out of his life – but an entire afternoon with this jerk.

The younger man scowls. “I might as well be. How can you be that energetic, anyway?”

“Well, don’t you think places like this are kinda fun – just, you know, for the heck of it?”

“For the heck of it?”

Kotetsu grins somewhat sheepishly and laughs once – softly, and he chalks his sudden cheerfulness up to the simple desire to ease the tension between them. “Sure. For example… doesn’t it bring back any good memories?”

Barnaby turns away from his partner, then, and Kotetsu _just_ misses the touch of regret that colors his expression. “Not particularly.”

“Huh? Not even one?” The older man reaches up to toy with the corner of his cap. He guesses that if he _wasn't_ wearing it, the top of his head _would_ be almost uncomfortably warm – and maybe just a little sunburned. Lucky him, then, but that doesn’t give Barnaby a good excuse to complain. “What kind of childhood did you have, anyway?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Barnaby snaps, and it’s clear that he means to end the conversation there.

Fine. Whatever – they won’t talk, then. Kotetsu crosses his arms on his chest like a pissed-off teenager and picks up his pace. He means to leave Barnaby in the dust, dammit, because if he can’t enjoy himself with the blonde he’ll at least do so alone. He’s going to have to put up with a stuffy dinner later, after all, so he’d rather keep his stress to a minimum until then…

However, he’s more than a little surprised when the younger man decides to mimic his pace – exceeds it, even, and Kotetsu responds in kind. Until they’re both racing down the middle of a busy pathway, startled families and couples stumbling out of their path to avoid getting bowled over – and Kotetsu stops just in time to avoid breaking his kneecaps against a brick-and-mortar wall lining a narrower side path.

Barnaby, on the other hand, slams right into – and over – it. He winds up on his stomach, dry soil and grass staining his face and hands. Kotetsu hears him moan irritably as he raises himself up from the ground, and he doesn’t miss the little cringing motion as the blonde registers the pain – a sprained ankle, maybe, and definitely the dusty scrapes that must be stinging the skin of his palms.

Several passersby stop to stare briefly before continuing on their way. Let someone else deal with these idiots – and Kotetsu, teasing grin barely concealed, offers his coworker a hand up. He’s not trying very hard to control his laughter, either, and Barnaby ignores the older man as he heaves himself unsteadily back onto his feet.

“Your fault,” he mutters, but a deepening blush somewhat ruins his haughty demeanor.

Kotetsu sighs melodramatically – kind of a ‘whatever am I going to do with you?’ sort of thing – and snatches the blonde’s wrist up from where it’s dangling at his side. “Let’s go clean up the scrapes,” he suggests.

“Forget it, old man! I don’t need you worrying about a little thing like – ”

“Don’t,” Kotetsu interrupts.

“D-don’t what?”

“Don’t ruin my chance to look cool for a change!” The older man nods in the direction of a partially-hidden cameraman. “See?”

Barnaby sighs and lifts his free hand to his face – probably means to stick his palm to his nose in the cool-guy’s version of ‘what the hell am I supposed to do with this moron?’

He stops, though – lets his five fingers obscure his view of his surroundings – and Kotetsu doesn’t notice the blonde’s eyes go wide because he’s too busy pulling his partner along toward a yet-unseen public restroom.

If he doesn’t notice it right away, though, he certainly does when the two are standing before a grime-smeared mirror and spit-shined sink (oh, the incredible contradictions of amusement park restrooms). He looks up to retrieve the blonde’s still-raised hand and pauses after forcing it down an inch or two.

“Ah – Bunny? You okay?” Barnaby doesn’t respond, though – just wide, panicked green eyes and his trembling lips parted as he mouths a single, silent word – “Uro… Euro…? W-what? Speak up, I can’t…”

“N-no,” Barnaby whispers. It’s clearly not directed at Kotetsu – or, rather, it seems that he doesn’t even hear the other’s voice. “Please,” he gasps after another precarious moment of tense silence.

“Oi – Bunny!”

The blonde collapses to his knees, then – arms still held roughly above his head by a stunned Kotetsu – and he’s shaking all over, not caring about the suspect smears of water, soap, and grime on the floor beneath him. “Stop,” he chokes out, and there are tears standing like little soldiers at the corners of his eyes.

“Stop what? Get a grip! Is it the blood? Does something else hurt?”

No response, still, and Kotetsu waits only another minute or so before he finally resorts to pulling his own hand back – fingers tensely lined up together as he drops one of Barnaby’s wrists, entire body trembling with the confused worry that this is somehow his fault – and he slaps Barnaby with just a little less than all of his strength.

The blonde makes a little noise of pain and surprise – finally blinks and then looks around at Kotetsu. “Old man, what – ouch – !” He lowers the hand that Kotetsu hasn’t already released, then, and moves it down to rub at his left ankle. His partner follows that movement with prying, concerned eyes, and he’s quick to look for more answers – can’t think of how else to help, anyway, because he’s only good at dealing with the negligible injuries of a small child, and even that’s kinda a thing of the past. Barnaby would hardly respond well to ‘pain, pain, go away,’ and this is obviously a bit more complicated than that, besides.

Several questions, then – “What was that about? Did you break something? Are you sick? Need to go to a hospital?”

“No, I – I’m fine. Thanks.” Two things are beyond obvious, then: the blonde’s continued disorientation, and the fact that he’s not about to offer anyone – least of all Kotetsu – a complete explanation.

And, of course, Kotetsu’s not about to accept that. “Right,” he retorts gruffly, and his less dexterous hands immediately shove Barnaby’s to the side so that he can get a better look at the offending ankle.

“I’m no expert,” he says after a moment, “but this _isn’t_ broken… is it?”

“Great. Wouldn’t have guessed that without your meddling,” the blonde snaps. “You really did me a favor by forcing me to walk on it, by the way. Honestly, if you’d just mind your own business…”

“If I’d done that,” Kotetsu growls, “wouldn’t you still be freaking out – and in front of a whole crowd of people?”

Barnaby scowls. “Are you honestly still talking about that?”

Yeah, actually, he is – because it’s just plain _weird_ for anyone to be that disturbed and then to refuse to so much as invent an excuse. It’s _weird_ that suddenly this creep is so much less standoffish, so much more vulnerable. It’s weird that Kotetsu feels like he’s seen something he shouldn’t – like he’s getting just a little too close to learning more about this mostly-a-stranger with whom he’s been forced to work.

Weird that not a single person has walked in on them, yet, and weird that Kotetsu hopes they don’t. Weird that he cares as much as he does, because he’s not as selfish as he likes to think but he’s probably at least petty enough to ignore the plight of someone he can’t ever hope to get along with.

“Was it the blood?” he asks, more insistently this time – ignoring the weirdness, for now, and just focusing on somehow forcing a return to whatever ‘normal’ is for them.

“No,” Barnaby growls. He matches Kotetsu’s urging with just as much obstinacy, but he doesn't yet know just how much potential for stubbornness the guy has. The older man brushes his single, forceful word aside and plows ahead with single-minded determination to rival Barnaby’s. Can’t teach an old cat new tricks – or argue with him, apparently, but Barnaby’s not averse to trying.

“Then you’re hurt somewhere else? Or were you just scared of falling?”

“As if! Just drop it, old man – I’m not interested in discussing this with you!”

Kotetsu sighs. “You want me to quit?”

“Do whatever you want,” Barnaby responds, but his eyes widen just a fraction of a centimeter – surprise at the extremity of what he could almost deem a threat, maybe, or maybe it’s because he’s confused. Because he should be happy, and yet he’s not. Because if Kotetsu quits, Barnaby’s failed – in his first stab at professional cooperation, mostly, but he’s also thought once or twice that this might be his first real chance at friendship.

He banishes that last – totally unfounded – thought immediately from his mind, though, and he hopes that none of its foolishness has wormed its way into his facial expression.

“Am I that much of a burden to you?” Kotetsu continues, and Barnaby relaxes just a bit. It’s becoming increasingly clear that his partner – despite whatever good intentions he may have – is alarmingly, hopelessly oblivious. A good thing, in this case, because the blonde would sooner die than let this idiot see him disappointed by something so insignificant.

“I don’t trust you.”

“ _Try_ trusting me!”

Oh – oh, wow. Both men are stunned into silence by Kotetsu’s sudden outburst – Kotetsu in particular, of course, and he raises one now-clammy hand to press it to his lips.

“Never mind,” he mutters at length, and he hoists himself back onto his feet. “I’ll wait outside, so just let me know if you need anything…”

“I won’t need anything!” Barnaby almost-shouts at his coworker’s retreating back.

He almost says something else, too, but those words are soon swallowed up by the whisper of running water and the pink of blood pulsing its way down the drain.

It’s still unnerving, even now.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He doesn’t always dislike this part of the old man.

Dinner turns out to be a somewhat smoother experience. Oddly – or, perhaps, paradoxically – the stresses of the blood, of the shaking, the words both spoken and unspoken and Kotetsu’s nagging have somehow lessened Barnaby’s petulance. It might be that it just can’t get any worse, actually – certainly not any more embarrassing for the blonde, at least. Nowhere to go but up.

For Kotetsu, though? It can _always_ get more embarrassing.

He doesn’t know about Barnaby, after all, but he’s just not used to fancy-schmancy places like this – the straight-faced waiters with their unwrinkled uniforms, the dull classical music oozing out of unseen instruments glinting under even shinier chandeliers and all of it, _all of it_ , just so well-mannered and dainty that a clumsy guy like Kotetsu has no idea what to do with himself.

He starts by stumbling right into a well-dressed lady and her belligerent date – prompting growled warnings and a hammy fist jerking at the front of his newly-donned suit, of course, but why should he have expected anything different? Really, he should get in the habit of molding his predictions to fit what actually happens to him on a daily basis. Surprises are a bitch, and he’s not getting paid enough for this.

It doesn’t stop there, either, because Kotetsu is probably his own worst enemy and he knows just how to take every situation from bad to really, _really_ bad. He speaks loudly in an attempt to lighten the darkening mood and has to be hushed by an exasperated Barnaby. He proceeds to shatter his wine glass, too – complete with bright scarlet to stain the tablecloth, naturally, and the liquid eagerly runs back onto Kotetsu’s legs. Barnaby is quick to tell him off for that, of course, and he adds insult to injury by choosing that moment to take Kotetsu’s hand in his – to apologize as if Kotetsu’s transgression is his own and could you perhaps spare a napkin for my friend?

He smiles like he’s never been so in love, and their waiter apparently decides against making a big fuss.

“The cameraman’s gone already,” Kotetsu sighs as soon as they find themselves alone again. He cradles his chin in the palm of one hand and rests his elbow indelicately on the table. “You can quit acting.”

Barnaby flashes him a charming – and entirely sarcastic – smile. “You might want to try brightening up a bit yourself, _sempai_.”

“Knock it off,” Kotetsu groans.

“Why?” Barnaby challenges him, and now he’s every bit the picture of sincere irritation. “Like it or not, we’ll both have to get used to this soon. It’s an important part of the job.”

“Thought you said I should quit, anyway,” Kotetsu mutters under his breath. He pouts into his fingers, and Barnaby eyes him with what must be a saintly level of tolerance.

“No. I said you should do what you want.”

“The heck’s that even supposed to mean?”

Barnaby smiles and answers with a shake of his head as their server returns with several cloth napkins. He thanks the man good-naturedly and then orders for himself – just a salad, thanks, but a little more rose wine might be nice. Kotetsu grudgingly follows suit – minus the rose wine, plus a sizable steak – and their conversation crumbles into near-total silence after that.

And then Barnaby leans forward – both elbows on the table, fingers laced together to support his chin and a flirtatious smile quirking his lips up at the corners – raises his eyebrows slightly and somehow manages to force Kotetsu into noticing the green of his eyes all over again. “I’d hate for you to quit,” he murmurs, and Kotetsu knows he’s lying through his teeth but it sounds very believable nevertheless.

Kotetsu’s mouth goes dry. Must be his drink, because the alcohol in it also keeps him from forming his words quite right – “Wh-wh-what are you…? I don’t – ” It’s too sudden, too fake, _much_ too real and Barnaby apparently never gets tired of pulling stunts like this. Must be some kind of sadist…

The younger man’s eyes dart off to the side. Kotetsu turns to look in that direction and finally notices the camera that’s aimed at them from a neighboring table.

Ah…

Confusion gone, he forces a smile and tries to mimic the blonde’s pose. It doesn’t really work, but he forges ahead nevertheless. “And leave you all alone? As an adult, I couldn’t possibly…!”

Barnaby scowls in spite of himself. “You aren’t that much older than me,” he hisses in response.

The hell? Is that supposed to sound scripted, or is he really saying it? It’s incredibly frustrating that Kotetsu can’t even begin to tell the difference.

Well, two can play at that game – maybe. “Sure, I am. And maybe I’m not quite as skilled at acting” – oh, but he’s acting right now, else he’d never even consider saying that – “but I’ve gotta stick around to teach you what I can. Right?”

Barnaby’s flirtatious smile widens into almost-a-smirk. “I’m so lucky to have you, Kotetsu.”

Kotetsu gives a little start in response to his first name on Barnaby’s cheerful lips. _No, no – keep cool. Keep acting. I can at least confuse him a little, right…?_

Or beat him at his own game. Or slip in a few good insults while Barnaby can’t easily retaliate. Or make a fool of himself yet again.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve been making that more obvious, but I – you know, I feel the same way, but – you’re younger… And it’s been hard getting to know you…”

“Hard how?” The blonde raises on eyebrow curiously – a warm gesture meant for friends, drinking buddies, and _maybe_ lovers, _maybe_ , but Kotetsu is caught off guard yet again by how well it fits the two of them. Like the proverbial glove, and he finds himself responding honestly. As though this were not all just a little show for shutters and lenses.

“Well, you know – it’s just, getting past that personality of yours. It’s tough.”

Barnaby’s scowl returns full force, then, and he hauls his arms up to cross them on his chest. “Thanks a lot,” he mutters sarcastically as he collapses back into his chair with a short sigh of overdone exhaustion. Kotetsu notices then that the stranger’s camera has returned to rest on the milky white of an unstained tablecloth – why hadn’t they just asked for a new table, anyway? – and he, too, drops his guard.

“You should work on that, _kohai_.”

Barnaby levels a glare at Kotetsu. “Just as soon as you get better at acting.”

~

Okay – maybe the whole restaurant thing isn’t a great improvement, after all, because it isn’t long before the food turns into another racetrack. Kotetsu winds up nearly choking to death on his steak, and Barnaby wins by a landslide – of course, because all he has in front of him is a pathetic little salad – and they finish the meal in record time.

Not that the meal had ever been off to a terribly great start, anyway.

Now, standing out in front of the hotel-restaurant-skyscraper wishing he could just go home and sleep already, Kotetsu has to deal with one more photographer – this one a rookie looking for a really good shot to impress the ‘higher-ups’ – and he’s got little choice but to share one more thing with Barnaby before the night is up.

After all, their date is nothing if it’s not clichéd. Clichés equal predictability, and Kotetsu wouldn’t be caught terribly off guard by a cherry languishing at the peak of a chocolate sundae. It's an awful metaphor, and it’s one more thing for which he should have accounted in the foggy realm of his plans for the day – which does not, of course, make it any less awkward.

Or – if he’s being honest with himself – any less enjoyable. Pleasant, even.

The air is cool, winter-turning-springtime and flowers-budding-out between them, but Barnaby’s lips are as warm as ever on Kotetsu’s – warmer, even, and just barely enough to completely distract the older man from the successive camera-clicks strung like beads along the thread of shimmery night air.

Suffice it to say that he isn’t the one who breaks the kiss.

That young camera-packing guy – younger than Barnaby, even – approaches the pair just as Kotetsu takes an unsteady step back from his partner – awkwardness setting in like a viper’s poison, now. The kid’s mannerisms just _scream_ ‘I want to have a conversation,’ and his eyes are glistening with curiosity. It doesn’t look good to Kotetsu, but his cheeks are red and his mouth still tastes of rose wine – _not cinnamon_ , he wonders dazedly, and he’s not quite ready yet to stage any kind of escape.

“By the way, guys – are you two actually a couple? I mean, for real?”

Kotetsu reacts immediately, then, and with emphasis – arms flailing in a desperate attempt to convey the degree to which that statement could be called ludicrous, crazy, not-funny-at-all-I-hope-I-never-see-him-again. It was a good kiss – good like the scene from before and that’s why Kotetsu can protest as strongly as he does. Like a drowning man with a water-drenched log.

(Tomoe. Kaede. Bygone years. The jerk’s personality.)

Barnaby, on the other hand, considers briefly before lifting his gaze to meet the other man’s. “What makes you think so?” he asks, and _his_ face and voice are both about as calm as a freaking robot’s. He’s being nice; Kotetsu doesn’t feel like following suit.

“Well – seemed like you guys were really getting into your conversations. And – I hope you won’t think I’m rude for pointing this out, but… you know, that kiss just now was pretty genuine and you seemed kinda shy before… Hey, have you guys done it for real yet? In bed, I mean.”

Kotetsu feels his face heating up for another reason entirely, because he really can’t stand these types – hell, he probably hates this sort of attitude worse than anything else anyone ever says about people like him and Barnaby. People who aren’t supposed to have any inhibitions, and god forbid that they feel uncomfortable when asked anything so straightforward. God forbid that anyone who doesn’t do what they do afford them anything akin to respect.

“Listen up!” he growls – uncharacteristically fierce, stern even, and he’s quick to take advantage of the attention he’s managed to sink his claws into. “This guy and I – we’re just doing our job! You wouldn’t ask most people things like that, would you? So, what makes you think it’s okay to pry like that now? Hah?”

The guy backs up a few steps – nervous smile, arms raised placatingly like a shield or a warning of some sort – but Barnaby might actually be more surprised than the photographer is. Kotetsu’s selective attention is something to behold, of course, and he doesn’t notice, but that doesn’t mean that the falling-tree-and-no-one-but-some-punk-to-see-it isn’t there in the widening of his eyes or the slight tilting of his head.

“K-Kotetsu,” he warns, because now is still not the time or the place to call him what he is – _old man_ , and just how old fashioned _is_ he, anyway? The blonde says something else, too – an apology, a half-hearted request for the guy to forgive his friend’s rudeness just like the waiter and everyone else has to put up with his clumsiness.

His lame jokes, his loud mouth, his bad habits.

They’re alone, now, and Kotetsu is still fuming as Barnaby turns to face him again.

“Thanks for that,” he says, and he means it.

He doesn’t always dislike this part of the old man.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's going to be another long day.

Barnaby is tired. Exhausted.

Even Kotetsu can tell – can see the dark circles glaring up from behind a transparent screen of glass and metal frames – but the old man doesn’t know what to make of it. He doesn’t know any better than to assume that his partner’s been out partying a bit too much. That he should maybe try looking for some kind of over-the-counter sleeping pill.

The blonde’s tried that – off-the-shelf, over-the-counter, prescribed-by-a-doctor. Stronger and stronger and he usually does at least fall asleep, but the dreams wake him up without fail. Like night terrors but rife with real fear and never simply forgettable.

Kotetsu can’t see what Barnaby sees, which is why he shouldn’t bother asking the younger man what his problem is. It’s why he shouldn’t dare to worry, because he can’t do anything about it and it’s not his or anyone else’s fault – _too far away_ , he thinks for the millionth time – not the fault of their coworkers, not the fault of the drugs. Not anyone’s fault but the organization’s, but that’s Barnaby’s problem and no one else’s.

“I _said_ ,” he snaps, his hand clenching about a squeaking styrofoam cup that immediately overflows with hot coffee to burn his hands – fire, bright red and hungry, is fleetingly there in the sensation, and he bites back a short gasp. “I’m fine.”

But Kotetsu’s not listening, Nathan’s not listening, no one’s listening – they’re talking to each other, to him, and Kotetsu’s hand is on Barnaby’s with a bundle of hastily-snatched napkins and more words of warning and almost-fatherly reprimand. Usually, that older-than-thou attitude would bother the blonde enough to elicit some retaliation, but today’s a bad day and he can’t care.

“Oi, Bunny, your hand…”

“Handsome” – that’s Nathan, always eager to jump on the annoying-nickname bandwagon – “you have to take good care of yourself! Wouldn’t want your lovely skin to be damaged, would we?”

“Right!” Kotetsu agrees – not caring about the skin, of course, but what the hell. “It’s even affecting your acting – you know, that third redo wasn’t _my_ fault, this time!”

“Then you won’t deny that the first two _were_ ,” Barnaby mutters as he brushes the other’s hands away and finishes cleaning up the mess.

Nathan chuckles. “My, my, sounds like you’re just as clumsy as ever,” he teases a taken-aback Kotetsu. “You know, you could come visit my place sometime. I’d be happy to teach you a thing or two…”

Kotetsu sighs, casually disregarding his friend’s teasing and his not-so-serious offer. “Jeez…”

It’s nothing more than a simple statement of irritation; it doesn’t require any response from Barnaby, and the focus of the conversation has already tilted away from him. He notices Karina shouldering her bag as she prepares to leave, and he comments on it – hoping to finish what Nathan’s started by getting the spotlight the rest of the way off of himself.

(He’s not on stage, dammit, so why should he have to be the center of attention? Like that blurred figure, the gleaming white-teeth-flashing smile and a hand heavy on his shoulder – that’s the stage of his mind, minus the closable curtains, and it’s all he can think of on days like this.)

Karina glances up at him and smiles. Her latest role – not pornographic, of course, because _she_ really is too young – somehow requires her to wear blue lipstick and a wig. (A showy outfit, too, but it _probably_ can’t be considered suggestive. Probably.) She’s complained about it a considerable amount over the past few weeks, and a hint of azure is still clinging stubbornly to her plump lower lip. Barnaby can’t say he blames her for her irritation, given the hassle of the costume and the fact that it doesn’t particularly suit her, but he’s happy to see that she hates it less now thanks to Kotetsu’s meddling.

(Other things, like the way she sometimes eyes Kotetsu when he’s not looking, on the other hand... Barnaby’d like to warn her away from the idiot, because she could do better and she really should be chasing after people more her own age.

Not like Barnaby, but of course he hasn’t given that any thought. Not at all.)

“I’m working at the bar tonight,” she explains. “I’ve been practicing,” she adds, more softly, and Barnaby knows - she’s hoping that Kotetsu will hear. That he'll reciprocate some of the attention, if nothing else.

(Just like she heard his words back then – impassioned in sort of the same way he was that night with the photographer, and Karina unwilling to accept them but eventually coming to appreciate and understand the lesson anyway. To work hard, to love what she does and to persevere – those are the things he taught her, then, and maybe that’s not why she feels the way she does now, but it’s a good reason to respect him despite his clumsiness. It’s what made her look at him a bit differently.

Barnaby might sympathize with that, if he was just a bit more aware of these things. Just a bit.)

Kotetsu does hear, and he changes his manner as he turns to face the girl – becoming a father, almost, an adult speaking to a friend and a child. Someone who will never reciprocate those kinds of feelings, and Barnaby almost feels sorry for his young coworker. Still – _still_ , he may not entirely trust Kotetsu, but he doesn’t believe that he’d intentionally hurt or use Karina. 

“Ah, that so? Maybe I’ll drop by later!” The older man winces when Barnaby – having approached him without much warning – leans a bit closer and delivers a quick kick to his calf. “Ow – the heck’s that for?!”

“Have you already forgotten? You have to work tonight.”

Kotetsu groans. “Ah, right…” _Another date..._

Karina smiles, laughs, and doesn’t look at all as disappointed as she probably feels. “Don’t worry about it, then. It gives me more time to get better for when you do have time to come by!”

She’s already on her way out, then, and Kotetsu waves a cheerful goodbye.

That done, the older man immediately resumes his barrage of questions and advice - accompanied to a lesser degree, of course, by Nathan and a few other actors and stagehands. He’s not the same as a bad dream – not at all, although he certainly _is_ annoying – but he’s almost as persistent.

 It’s going to be another long day.

But that might be just the thing to take Barnaby’s mind off of the longer nights.

(The blood, the fire, the constant nagging feeling that what he’s doing doesn’t suit him at all – the prying, the no-privacy. The no resting. He'll have to thank Kotetsu again later.)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barnaby starts to find that nothing’s ever as simple as he expects it to be when it comes to his unruly partner.

In the end, that whole thing with Karina is enough to stir something proportionally small in Barnaby – a hint of respect beneath all of his disgust at having been paired up with a clumsy, irresponsible old man. It’s a start.

Of course, respect isn’t the same thing as trust. Trust is what he reserves for the people he’s known all his life – the CEO of Apollon Media and his former caretaker. Albert Maverick and Samantha Taylor. His father figure and something of a grandmother, in a lot of ways. They know things about him that no one else does. They’ve always supported him, and they’re precious to him. He’s alone – has been since that day, and he knows it, but he still has two people in whom he can place some degree of trust. Two people upon whom he can choose to rely.

Kotetsu isn’t anything like that. He’s a coworker, and he‘s only with Barnaby so often because he has no other options. Barnaby understands that well, and he could almost say the same of himself. Because he has one purpose and one purpose only – to find _them_ , and to do so by committing himself entirely to this ‘career.’ If Kotetsu is anything more than a simple coworker, he is a means to an end.

It’s sort of sad, Barnaby guesses, but he’s already had his fill of sad stories and this isn’t enough to shake him. He doesn’t plan to change.

(No one ever does.)

But Kotetsu doesn’t stop asking his questions, and he doesn’t stop getting in the way of everyone else’s problems. He makes himself impossible to ignore, and Barnaby starts to find that nothing’s ever as simple as he expects it to be when it comes to his unruly partner.

~

Their coworkers truly are an interesting bunch, too – not to mention multitalented, but that’s par for the course in a company that can’t seem to make up its mind about what sort of material to focus on.

Karina Lyle, of course, sings in her spare time. Nathan and Antonio are AV actors like Kotetsu and Bunny, but Nathan also heads a small business that has something to do with interior design. Curtains, paint – something like that. Antonio is a body builder and a wrestler when it suits him. His performances in any given area have always been praised as ‘just above average’ – not a great compliment, he decides, but he’s fairly persistent.

Keith, on the other hand, is sort of a hopeless romantic – good for him, because most of his parts consist of platonic love interests and old-style chivalry. He hasn’t escaped a jab here and there regarding his supposed naiveté, but he seems satisfied. A little too sincere at times, and maybe not the brightest. But kind – really, he’s a good guy. No one can recall ever seeing him even remotely pissed off. (Actually, he’s also one of the strangest among them, which makes his celebrity status somewhat bewildering.)

There’s Pao-Lin, too – surprisingly young, but she’s already earned a name for herself as an excellent martial artist. She’s starred in several how-to videos and even a handful of action-oriented TV series – none of which have anything to do with what everyone else does, of course, but they all run into each other from time to time anyway. Share a break room, pass each other in the halls. Sometimes even offer a bit of encouragement.

Kotetsu, especially, favors the latter. Barnaby’s just beginning to wonder whether there might be something fundamentally wrong with the guy’s brain when – lo and behold – Kotetsu finds himself yet another lost kitten and proceeds to make a big deal out of what honestly seems to be nothing. It’s been a good day for the old man – not too much work, no excessive takes of the same damnable scenes and no fighting – which is why he chooses to talk to another of his many coworkers. The aforementioned ‘kitten’ is looking uncharacteristically depressed, after all, and Kotetsu in a particularly buoyant mood won’t stand for that.

And, of course, he’s not a kitten, but he certainly has the presence of one. Ivan Karelin is his name, and his face promises far more fortitude than he actually has to offer. He looks almost mean – stubborn, at least, with strong, thick eyebrows and a determined set to his lips. He works as an extra – has for a while, he claims – and Kotetsu promptly refuses to believe that he’s been with the company all this time.

Barnaby has seen him around, of course, but the kid generally seems lively enough – always prancing about with a winsome smile and dressed in the traditional styles of an Eastern nation. China – definitely China, Kotetsu decides, and Barnaby can’t resist pointing out how obvious it is that the costumes are based on the samurai of feudal Japan. (‘Shame on you for not knowing that,’ he adds in not so many words, ‘and your last name is ‘Kaburagi,’ isn’t it? Get with the program, old man!’)

Introductions over and done with - and all of those mild insults properly dealt with, too - Kotetsu skips right ahead to his main concern. “So – what’s up? Just get turned down by a cute girl?”

“Of course not,” Ivan says – an oddly direct answer, given that the question is being posed by an almost-complete stranger. “I doubt any girl would want to go out with someone like me, anyway,” he adds under his breath.

Ouch.

Barnaby sighs. “Kotetsu, leave him alone. It’s none of our business.”

“Oh, right – um, don’t worry about me,” Ivan says by way of apology. His words are accompanied by a short bow, and Barnaby has to pause to consider this new acquaintance of theirs. (He’d never have had any, but Kotetsu tends to make it impossible for the blonde to totally avoid socializing.) Not too many people would go so far as to remain in-character given a role without any real lines or major appearances – Barnaby knows _he_ wouldn’t – but this guy is obviously really into the whole oriental thing. That sort of formality isn’t exactly common, after all.

Maybe it’s just a special interest of his?

Or – “Are you concerned about your work?”

Ivan’s still mumbling to himself about how he doesn’t mind but he wouldn’t want to trouble you two and he’s not really that upset anyway so sorry for being gloomy. He barely catches his breath before responding, “No…”

“Well, that’s convincing,” Kotetsu mutters, but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Barnaby can’t quite decide what sort of smile it is, actually. Amused? Fatherly, again? Mocking? Forced? It only bothers the blonde because his partner is usually so easy to read. (Not, of course, because he wants to know more about him, or anything.) “Look, we’re not planning on starting any weird rumors. Just looking out for a fellow employee.”

Ivan grunts his uncertain acknowledgment and looks from Barnaby to Kotetsu for a moment.

He may be timid, but he’s apparently not that naïve. “Thanks, but I’m fine,” he insists, and that’s that.

~

Until a week or so later, of course – Kotetsu and Barnaby in the midst of another fight as well as a public relations event meant to mend Apollon’s struggling reputation. (A few apparently-unfounded claims of ‘unethical business practices’ and the rise of a competing company called Blue Flame something-or-other, coupled with their star actor ‘Lunatic,’ having punched a sizable hole in the company’s standing…) The attending actors – mostly those not involved in pornography, but Kotetsu and Barnaby are a special case – are expected to give the general public some helpful tips on acting.

Which is, of course, an awkward proposition for the two whose work isn’t generally – well, safe for work.

As far as Kotetsu’s concerned, their lunch break can’t come early enough. He makes sure that Barnaby’s aware of that at all times, too, and he’s quick to run off the moment he’s given leave to do so. Barnaby actually feels the same way – not terribly pleased with the prospect of being placed directly before the public eye and then forced to discuss something with which he’s already slightly uncomfortable – but he’s determined not to be as vocal about it as his idiot partner.

Coincidences are truly a force to be reckoned with, though, and in trying to avoid Kotetsu the blonde actually winds up walking right into him in the middle of a conversation with that same guy – the extra, Ivan. (Which is doubly ironic, given that Kotetsu hadn’t meant to run into Ivan in the middle of a conversation with some guy he’d never seen before.)

‘Course, ‘walking right into’ isn’t a terribly accurate description, anyway, because Barnaby is still far enough away that he can hear without being heard.

He means to leave just like that. Of course he does, but even he gets curious from time to time. Besides, whatever trouble Kotetsu causes becomes Barnaby’s problem, as well. He decides to consider what he's about to do ‘preventative surveillance,’ and the decision is made.

“We were really close friends a while ago,” he hears Ivan explain. “We were both so focused on acting, and we were going to make it big together…”

“What happened?” Kotetsu asks – not clumsy at all, given that it’s him. He’s being sympathetic, not selfishly curious. Barnaby can tell, although he’s loathe to admit it even to himself – that his partner really isn’t just a blundering fool. That maybe there’s a little more to him. At least a touch of finesse, or something.

It's not even the first time he's thought so.

“That is… he was involved in some trouble. Thanks to me – because I was away at the time, and he was the only one who… They – some of the other actors who working on a play with us – they asked him for a favor. They wanted him to carry a tin of something around for a while. They even put a little lock on it, but he trusted them anyway, and – you know, just because he felt like he had to avoid antagonizing any of our costars.”

“There was something in that container, huh?”

“Yes. Um… drugs, and apparently quite a bit. He… just finished a prison sentence, and he heard I was going to be here, so...”

Kotetsu sighs placatingly. “Well, sure, that’s awful, but... doesn’t make it your fault, right?”

Ivan shakes his head. “He was always a better actor, and now _he’s_ the one who might not be able to find a job. All because I wasn’t there, and because he thought he was helping me. I was nothing more than a burden then, and now…”

Kotetsu frowns, breathes for a moment and finally says, “Hey, hey, you can think what you want about all that complicated stuff, but don’t say such depressing things. You’re not a burden. You could be a great actor – really!”

Ivan’s gaze – exaggeratedly cold until now – warms a bit, but his fists don’t loosen into fingers and palms in his lap. “How so?”

“Well… who else could get so into a role all the time? I mean, _I_ just go home and try to forget about what I do. Yeah – probably why I get in trouble all the time for messing up. Haha…” _Especially since Bunny came into the picture_ , Kotetsu adds mentally, sardonically. He doesn’t feel as strongly, now, but it’s true that not many people particularly appreciate him. It’s true that he’s living in his partner’s shadow, and it’s painfully, obviously true that said partner refuses to let Kotetsu get anywhere near whatever’s brewing inside of him. Nothing changes, and at this point Kotetsu’s just letting his thoughts be dominated by force of habit.

That nothing changes – nothing at all – might actually be a forced line of thought in itself, though.

“Ah, that is… I just like that sort of thing. Japanese things...”

Kotetsu shrugs. “Alright, well, I think you should try anyway. To score an awesome role, I mean – hey, I’ll even help you practice if you want!”

Ivan looks a bit taken aback by the sudden offer. “Why would you bother with someone like me?”

“I told you to stop saying things like that, didn’t I?” Kotetsu reprimands him gently. “I can already tell you’re completely worth it. Besides, everyone has _something_ to contribute after all, right? Look on the bright side!”

Barnaby – leather jacket pressed to a wall behind him, head tilted to catch the quieter words – smiles in spite of himself. Those lines are all just so damn cliché, but they sound very legitimate coming from the old man. The old man – and, by extension, both Barnaby and Ivan – obviously believes them, at least to some extent.

(Sort of like Barnaby’s sweet nothings almost sound like somethings to an always-bewildered Kotetsu, but the blonde’s not aware of that parallel.)

Ivan hasn’t accepted the offer, yet, but Kotetsu still has more to say. He’s on a roll – thinks he looks cool, Barnaby would willingly bet, but the old man’s not entirely wrong this time. “Your friend – Edward, right? I think you should try talking to him again. For what it’s worth, I can put in a good word for him with someone at Apollon.”

Ivan smiles, then – the first time since that first conversation. “I… Okay, thank you very much. I will do my best, and – really, thank you. I’m glad I spoke with you today…”

The farewell-bidding waves, sun swimming in the water of the fountain upon which the two had been leaning, and Ivan’s footsteps signal his departure as Barnaby’s eyes slip shut for the briefest of moments.

He parts with the wall and approaches his partner.

“Are you always like this?”

Kotetsu turns, surprised, to face the younger man. One hand finds its way to his hip, then, and he reaches up with the other to adjust his cap. “What? What are you talking about?” _And what are you doing here?_

Barnaby makes a broad gesture with his hand. “A busybody, I guess.”

Kotetsu frowns. “Hey, that’s awfully rude, don’t you think?! Besides, that was none of your business – you shouldn’t listen in on other people’s conversations, Bunny!”

“You have no room to talk, old man.”

Kotetsu huffs loudly as he crosses his arms on his chest. “Sheesh, you’re always so uncooperative.”

“Oh, you think so?” Barnaby responds coolly. “If this is about what you’ve been asking lately, just drop it. I don’t need your help.”

Kotetsu looks just a bit more serious, then. “But you do need help,” he says softly. His eyes aren’t on Barnaby, anymore – the pavement at his feet, a used-up cigarette butt and a little weed spreading its leaves from its vantage point in one of many cracks.

“No,” Barnaby sighs. “I don’t.”

“What would it take?” Kotetsu asks after a moment. He’s not sure why he even bothers, because Barnaby’s wrong. He’s _not_ a busybody, but helping others sometimes feels like the only thing he can really accomplish. Still, he and the blonde are rarely able to cooperate effectively – they fight, they insult each other, and they’re not friends. None of it makes sense. Barnaby clearly doesn’t want his help, and that should be more than enough reason for Kotetsu to entirely stop caring.

“What are you talking about, old man?” Eyes narrowed, stance reflexively becoming defensive.

“To earn your trust. You can’t seriously be telling me that you won’t even give anyone a chance.” What is he doing?

“Why should I?” Barnaby counters, and he finds his own arms crossed much like Kotetsu’s. A mirror image of the man in front of him.

“Because we’re partners,” Kotetsu mutters. “You still look exhausted, you know.”

Yeah. Because the nightmares have gotten a lot worse lately. Because the logo of that new company looks disturbingly familiar. Because he feels close, and that means feeling threatened. Like he might lose his grasp on a scent that he can’t seem to follow straight to begin with.

It’s okay. It should be okay, right? Mr. Maverick said so, too – that he’ll do what he can.

Barnaby trusts him.

“I hadn’t noticed,” the blonde responds, then, and he turns away from his partner.

Because Kotetsu might be trustworthy, kindhearted, sincere, but he’s – Barnaby can’t – there’s a reason he can’t be trusted. There is. There must be.

He just can’t help forgetting it lately.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cab vibrates nonchalantly beneath them both, thrums a one-note tune and Kotetsu sighs inaudibly.

He’s frozen. His voice, his eyes opened wide and unblinking and staring without seeing, his hands made fists by muscles that refuse to budge and his knees stuck like anchors to white linoleum.

Dammit. Dammit. This can’t be happening. He can’t be like this right now, not now, not here in front of – of voices he can’t fucking _hear_. Concerned faces hidden behind a solid wall of – fire, blood, smoke, a dark figure and a toothless smirk, and he doesn’t know who it is he never does but he’d give _anything_ to know.

He’ll lose his job, now, and he’ll be alone again, forgotten. He’ll have failed his parents and Maverick and – and – he won’t even see that face. He’ll have no way to, he’ll be a teenager again with a piece of paper crumpled in his hand again with no answers and he won’t – he can’t. So close, not now, _please._

A circle, a snake – tail in mouth, fingers below it curled about a revolver and smoke sinking blurry claws into his stinging eyes. His mother’s face, his father’s hand heavy on the cushion of the couch below him. Those aren’t his parents – they can’t be, they don’t look like that. They stand, they smile, they laugh and hold his hands and they don’t lie amidst flames without moving. Without screaming – but he’s screaming, and his cheeks are wet and it feels thick like blood, and the hand is reaching for him with deliberate slowness because it knows that he can’t get away.

He can never, ever get away.

And then it’s on his shoulder, shaking him and tight enough to bruise but he doesn’t bat it away, either. Because he’d rather be shot. He’d rather burn.

And then the hand is Kotetsu’s, and Kotetsu is shouting something indistinct that Barnaby only slowly manages to make out.

“…it’s okay, it’s okay…”

Over and over, the same two words. It’s not okay. It’s not okay.

Barnaby takes a shuddering breath and rasps, “No.”

The two-word lies stop, and Kotetsu pulls Barnaby into a hug – he thinks so, anyway, because it’s warm and the floor seems farther away all of a sudden. He’s leaning into something that isn’t empty air or the frame of a burning door, and he’s conscious of more bodies than just Kotetsu’s nearby. Living bodies, people with words and breath and thoughts not forever shrouded in mystery.

“What’s that about?” he hears. “Don’t argue with your sempai.”

He’s being teased. By Kotetsu. By that old moron…

“I…” Barnaby breathes, and his head is full of Kotetsu’s smell – cheap cologne, but not too much. Beer, but again that isn’t everything. Spring air clinging to the folds of his clothes, and that quite a lot more than the other things.

He doesn’t smell the smoke anymore.

“…I haven’t accepted you as my sempai.”

Someone above him – Antonio? – chuckles in response to that before quickly going quiet again.

“Hey,” Kotetsu sighs, and the corners of his lips lift tolerantly upward to make a gentle, toothy grin. He looks about ready to say something else, but Barnaby cuts him off by raising an unsteady hand to adjust his glasses and then moving shakily away.

“Um…” Pao-Lin, now – eyes wide with doubt and something akin to an apology. It’s like she’s interrupting something – which, Barnaby realizes now, she might as well be. This cool, young blonde, new to the industry and already thriving on it, turning first to Kotetsu in the midst of a panic attack. Kotetsu, with his sincerely gentle words and his hands there even now to support his partner. His eyes never leaving Barnaby, his lips even more expressive now in their downward turn. _Don’t push yourself all at once,_ they say, and Barnaby almost reminds the old man to quit calling him ‘Bunny.’

He feels his face heat up on the heels of that thought, and he quickly forces himself to scan the small crowd for unfamiliar faces.

None. Breathing a sigh of relief, the blonde forces an apologetic smile. “I apologize...” And, honestly, what the heck else can he say in this situation? He can’t very well explain himself, but he can’t say nothing after making a scene like that in the break room.

“You ‘apologize?’ Goodness, Handsome, you’ll need to say a bit more than that to satisfy us now!”

“Nathan,” Kotetsu warns.

“But – ”

“Ah, no, it’s just – I suppose I’m a bit tired,” Barnaby says softly. The weight of everyone’s eyes on him is incredible, because he knows there’s nothing good about drawing attention to himself like this. He knows that not even the CEO will be able to prevent the ‘letting go’ of a hopelessly neurotic actor. Barnaby may be good at his job, but AV actors are probably a dime a dozen when you get right down to it. They don’t need him.

Kotetsu reads the worry in Barnaby’s eyes and helps him again – with words, with an amiable smile and rushed explanations of his intention to “get Bunny home and in bed. Come on, guys – you can ask your questions later, okay? Everyone gets a little stressed out from time to time…”

Barnaby responds to that kindness – the rough hand that drags a reluctant arm past Kotetsu’s neck to rest still-trembling fingers upon a tight shoulder, the thrum of a deep voice in a chest very near his own – with sullen silence and a disapproving glare. He tries not to feel like he's won any battles just because Karina's sad-jealous gaze is there behind them. Just because this help is for him alone - not Ivan, not that Ivan cares, but, then, neither does Barnaby.

Until they’re in a taxi, Kotetsu on the far end of the backseat with his arms crossed casually on his chest and his head bowed in obvious thought. It feels wrong even to Barnaby, and he finds his tongue stumbling over secret words like a spell. “My parents,” he blurts suddenly – but not really, because he keeps his voice muted so as not to attract the attention of their driver.

“Your parents?” Kotetsu parrots after a moment. He’s raised his eyes to meet Barnaby’s, but the blonde isn’t looking in his direction. He’s staring dolefully at his clasped hands in his lap. Still shaking slightly – or shaking _again_ , because this topic is forbidden and to speak of it is to feel an immediate rush of regret.

But he could regret even more if he stops now.

It’s too late to stop now.

He wants Kotetsu to know.

He doesn’t want Kotetsu to know, but the old man’s curiosity has already been sparked.

It’s only fair.

It’s not fair.

He doesn’t know what to tell himself. How to justify it. He says so aloud for Kotetsu to hear and then waits quietly for encouragement. For a reason.

The cab vibrates nonchalantly beneath them both, thrums a one-note tune and Kotetsu sighs inaudibly. Funny how the hoped-for things never feel as good as you expect them to, he thinks, and his mind is racing – in circles, in jagged lines and angles as he hunts down the right words. Apparently, neat and orderly bits of advice aren’t in season.

Honesty, however, is. “I want you to tell me,” he says, “but not if it’s for my sake.”

“I don’t _know_ if it’s for your sake, old man.”

“What’s it called? Catharsis, right? They say talking about bad stuff gets it out of your system.”

Barnaby laughs – a breathless, lifeless thing, but there’s no way the blonde would bother with faking it. “Not everyone believes stuff like that actually works.”

Kotetsu frowns. “Why not?”

“Too easy, I guess. Life isn’t that simple.”

The cutting edge of those words is thankfully dulled by the harsh screech of tired brakes pulling the cab to an uneasy stop in front of an apartment building. Barnaby’s – he sighs.

“Come in?” he offers, and Kotetsu eyes him like he’s lost his mind.

“You want to know, don’t you?”

The old man smiles gently, then – comprehendingly, even gratefully – and promptly joins the blonde on the sidewalk.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They both know, too, where this is going. It’s been going there for a while, maybe – maybe since they first met in that office. Maybe since their first little peeks at the people behind the masks. Maybe since those events years ago – scarlet and orange light and pine-green and the white sheets whiter faces of death and hospitals.

Over coffee – how domestic, they both think, and it suits the situation not at all – Barnaby tells Kotetsu everything. It makes the old man one of only three, and Barnaby ponders with every word just what, exactly, trust is.

It isn’t until he’s recounted the whole story – the snow, the lights like fireflies on a Christmas tree and his Aunt Samantha at his side – feet sliding on iced-over stairs on the way to his parents, and the elderly woman calling a good-night that sears itself into his mind with every squeak of the door swinging inward – that he understands.

Trust is silence, eyes sad and maybe understanding what it all feels like but refusing to say so. It’s a short nod and Kotetsu leaving his drink untouched to make a quick call.

“Yeah. Yeah, he’s resting. Listen, could you make sure everyone knows not to say anything about what happened earlier?”

“Y’know… Sure, I – what?”

“D-don’t be ridiculous!”

The intentionally loud clap of his cell phone swinging shut, and his hand returning to coax some small degree of tension from Barnaby’s shoulders. A muttered complaint about assuming completely stupid things without any basis – seems Kotetsu’s always being teased by his coworkers – and Barnaby finally works up the courage to flick the screen of his computer on. The projector, and all the headlines and pictures forming a collage of blood and faces and small print.

It’s all overlaid by a single gem – a snake, a serpent devouring its own tail and a sword bloodlessly piercing it. The strange illegible writing in the center. Their name. His enemy.

“That’s Ouroboros,” Barnaby explains.

“Looks like…” Kotetsu cocks his head to one side and doesn’t comment on the mess of information sprawled like bloodstains and ash on the screen before him. He doesn’t call it insane or obsessive, even if it is. “Blue…?” That new company?

“Yeah.”

“Don’t know the connection?”

Barnaby shakes his head, and that’s all the response Kotetsu needs. “I see,” he sighs. “Well – I’ll do whatever I can to help, anyway. Not sure what I _can_ do, but… Bunny?”

(He’s thinking, in the loudest part of his mind, that something’s changed far too suddenly – that it’s still changing, and that he doesn’t mind. That he’s crazy for not minding – for liking it – that he’s drunk on the simple happiness of being granted access to a hidden portion of the blonde. That he should avoid making promises he can’t keep, and doesn’t he remember doesn’t he remember has he really forgotten her – _her_ , them?)

The blonde hums his acknowledgment – the same words spoken to him by Maverick, but these somehow carry more weight. He hesitates, tastes more unfamiliar syllables on his tongue and then weaves his own question into the thick fabric of the air about them.

Kotetsu’s comforting smile falters at first, and in his eyes shine regret and loss. A wound that he believes he has inflicted upon himself. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I guess…”

(He’s been waiting for the reminder – needing it, even – but being forced by someone other than himself to think about this is like being forced to hold his head under ice water.)

“Catharsis,” Barnaby reminds him. The blonde thinks twice, though, and adds, “But you don’t have to.”

His partner shakes his head. “Fair’s fair, right?”

His hands find Barnaby’s – his chin resting on the blonde’s shoulders and their arms molded together. The blonde jumps – his pulse and Kotetsu’s, he can feel them both – and he turns to look at his partner. “What…”

“Know something, Bunny?” The old man’s eyes are closed, his face peaceful in its melancholy.

(Bunny’s smell. Bunny’s voice. Bunny’s warmth.

Tomoe. Kaede.)

He doesn’t want an answer, this time, so the blonde swallows his words. He’s never had to forcibly impose silence upon himself, but he does now and the moment is too delicate for him to do otherwise. His throat aches with silent thoughts fighting for release into the oppressive void of the room and the chair and bodies pressed gently together.

Several literal beats of silence and blood rushing to the blonde’s cheeks, and Kotetsu finally pulls away.

“I have a daughter.”

Barnaby contemplates this in still-perfect silence. Kotetsu has a daughter. Which means that he also has a wife. Or…

“Her name was Tomoe,” and they both know that he’s not talking about his little girl, his child.

Because – _was_.

Was. “What happened?” In the past. How long ago? And does he hurt like Barnaby does? Is the loss of a spouse the same as the loss of a parent? Of two? Barnaby doesn’t think so, but the look in Kotetsu’s eyes says otherwise. It negates denial. It makes him look so much older than he’s ever looked before. Tired. Versed in pain that even Barnaby has yet to know.

_(And depending on how Bunny responds…)_

“Illness. Garden-variety cancer – not nearly as dramatic as your story, huh?” The bitterness hangs like bated breath between them. “She and I had always hoped for so much. It was just… sudden, I guess. And I wasn’t prepared to deal with it.  Probably still not.”

“You’re always cheerful,” Barnaby argues. Excessively so, even. The blonde would call himself jealous if he didn’t know how much happiness can hurt – like a debt left unpaid, like a promise broken and left to slice open the feet of the living that tread upon it.

Kotetsu laughs. Not forced, but lifeless. Same as Barnaby back in the taxi, the blonde realizes, and he’s hit all the more then by how wrong it is coming from Kotetsu. Smiling, laughing, teasing, joking Kotetsu. Child-like Kotetsu – clumsy and loud and always there for the people around him.

Has anyone ever been there for him?

Without waiting for the delayed response, Barnaby hazards a statement that will either fill the gap between them or widen it. “You were lonely, too.” You had no faith. You couldn’t even look for revenge, so you’ve been blaming yourself instead. Isn’t that right?

Isn’t that how it is?

He knows that most people say clichéd, meaningless things in these situations: _‘It’s not your fault,’_ and it’s not. But Barnaby constantly blames himself for what’s happened to _him_ , and he doesn’t dare to tread upon the eggshells of hypocrisy now. ‘ _I know how you feel,’_ and he does. Kotetsu does. They both do. And they’ve never known that until now; it means so much more intimacy than loveless sex before a cold camera lens. It means more when it’s hidden away from the public eye – no forced lines or obligations, no pretending that clichés transfer well to reality.

Kotetsu takes a step back, and another. “Hard to be lonely ‘round here.”

“ _I_ am,” Barnaby admits. “I know.”

They both know, too, where this is going. It’s been going there for a while, maybe – maybe since they first met in that office. Maybe since their first little peeks at the people behind the masks. Maybe since those events years ago – scarlet and orange light and pine-green and the white sheets whiter faces of death and hospitals.

Kotetsu struggles for words, and the conflict is there on his face. The memories, this something new, the lies. “I’m probably not like you think I am,” he says at last. He has a daughter, and he’s still living in the shadow of his grief and the ideals he’ll never be able to achieve.

And still he’s not sure that that’s as bad as living for revenge.

“I never thought you were pretending to be a carefree idiot, old man, and I don’t think so now. Isn’t _that_ what you’re ‘like?’”

“I’m… that is…”

“Two things, Kotetsu” – and his partner’s eyes widen predictably in response to this not-acted-out-nor-contrived use of his first name – “I’m a decent judge of character. You’re not just some grumpy old guy, you know. You’re not that much older than me. We’ve been acting like lovers for a while now, so why not – ”

He stops, takes a nervous breath and tries again. “Wh-why not…”

_(Depending on how Bunny takes it. If Bunny can…)_

On Kotetsu’s face, then, dawns a slow smile – hesitant – guilty, almost, because his heart is swelling in a way it hasn’t since Tomoe, and that’s like cheating even now. It’s lying and betraying yet still he knows he has to take baby steps. Baby steps, and maybe he’ll find forgiveness someday. His pointer finger traces an up-and-down pattern on one reddening cheek as he finishes, “Why not make it real?”

And he prays to whoever’s out there – up there, whatever – that something as good as this feels will come of what he’s doing now.

“I was getting there,” Barnaby mutters.

It’s a brief moment of amusement, the putting into words of something long suppressed. A brief moment of light, and then silence descends. Of course, silence – the weight of everything that hasn’t been achieved. The nightmares that something this small can’t hope to put a quick end to. That heavy silence.

Kaede.

Lunatic. Ouroboros.

Tomoe.

His parents. The fire, the blood.

The shadowy figure and the blur of tears.

I don’t know if I can love you – you or anyone – more than I love the thought of revenge.

I haven’t been any good to anyone in so long, Bunny. I don’t know what I can do for you when I can’t do a thing for myself.

Hey – aren’t we just about as messed up as messed up gets?

Hah… it’s pathetic…

But…

The nervous laughter that lifts that silence comes from both of them. A team effort, so to speak, but Kotetsu beats Barnaby to another few words. “I’ll have to bring it up with Kaede,” he says. Pauses. “But it’s sudden, Bunny. Why don’t we give it some time? Off-camera, I mean.”

“I know a nice place,” the blonde agrees. “Next time we’ve got a day off.”

Kotetsu inclines his head self-consciously. “I said I’d help. With finding the guy who did it.”

“Yeah. Thanks. I’ll hold you to it, old man.”

They’ll work it out, because that’s what reality is. Life isn’t a comic book, and it’s not an uncut ribbon of counterfeits and delusions, either. It’s not emotionless pretension and it’s not about tearing yourself down to fix everything. It’s a struggle, and it’s awkward. There are fights and failures and who knows if any of this will last. What feels strong, they both know, tends to crumble, but that’s why you enjoy it while it lasts.

And so, for the first time, their words and touches are not the careful ministrations of lips and fingers made deliberate by makeup and lights, camera, action – they’re the starving motions of two people who have been torn up by themselves and by an unfair world. They’re the sting of skin clinging obstinately to skin, grooves under nails and sweat in rivulets. They’re a sticky wood floor and a screen full of dark things – evil things, and the remote knocked from the stand above them clatters and clicks and the images vanish just like that.

(A temporary reprieve.)

Breath and tangled limbs and Barnaby pants out a few words as they both climax and the room shivers around them – this is not acting, they both think, this is not lies or Agnes shouting for a better performance. This is not work, and it’s not something for which they must ask permission.

(Not yet. Not just yet.)

And then it's over, and - “Tell me something real, Kotetsu,” Barnaby whispers – hands in Kotetsu’s hair, soft finger pads tickling the other’s scalp and the sweat and salt and breathlessness.

“Isn’t ‘I love you’ real enough for you, Bunny?”

The blonde’s cheeks fire up just like that – his whole face, another kind of fire, a kind that doesn’t hurt or hide. “Only if you mean it.”

“Hey,” the other man laughs as strokes the other’s cheek with the back of his hand. “You’re the one who said that this is how I naturally am.”

“Really? Mmm… I’m sure I only said that you’re a terrible actor.”

“Oh? If that’s the case, then you should be able to tell whether or not I’m acting now, right?”

 _That_ gives Barnaby pause. “…Okay.”

Okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I was planning on fleshing out the plot a bit more - sort of having it mirror the series all the way to the end or something similar - but trope_bingo has a deadline. And I might not make it if I did that... (Still, I'm thinking I might add onto this at some point down the line, just depending. ;)


End file.
